


one in a hundred

by norio



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8189225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norio/pseuds/norio
Summary: Though he has no proof, Bokuto suspects dating would be a lot easier if Akaashi stopped trying to break up with him.





	

On the second day of dating, Akaashi said, “We should break up.” 

“What? Why? What?” Bokuto thought he must have misheard. The flat white trucks and bright red scooter bikes rumbled beneath the bridge, roaring loud like thunder in his ears. He slowed and stopped, sneakers biting over the snow. 

“It should be obvious,” Akaashi said. He hunched in his thick jacket, the dark blue now stained with the twilight’s gold. Akaashi’s nose, peeking atop his wounded gray scarf, had turned a bristling pink.

“It’s not obvious to me! I don’t want to break up!” 

Bokuto held out his hands, palms facing the sky. Akaashi watched the passing cars impassively. Somehow, with Akaashi’s profile in shadows, Bokuto remembered the glossy pictures of gemstones in his textbook. They were glittering like stars, and impenetrably beautiful. 

“Then,” Akaashi finally said, “we won’t break up.” He walked across the bridge, quick footsteps softened by the snow. The setting sun caught the rosiness of his cheeks, but his shoulders had tightened across his back, leaving wrinkles on his jacket and forehead.

\--

When Bokuto had first confessed, hidden breath burning in his lungs, Akaashi had asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said. “Yeah, I like you a lot! If I could, I’d give you the sun and the stars and the moon and maybe some band-aids. I like you.” 

The gift of an imaginary galaxy, spinning with nebulae and solar winds, did not sway him. Akaashi furrowed his brow. His white jacket had a milky sheen, lit by the gray clouds pouring a softer light inside. He hadn’t zipped his jacket, the dark 5 emblazoned tight on his chest. The way the zipper swung, wild and trembling, gave him a look of flustered vulnerability.

“I’m the setter,” Akaashi said. “Please don’t misunderstand. I would toss to any ace. If you like me, then perhaps you’ve been mislead into self-flattery.” 

“Huh?” Bokuto wasn’t smart like Akaashi. When tests were passed back, incriminating red marks scratched over his answers. A pinprick of disappointed would pierce his boasts, but he usually slid the test into his bag and flew down the steps, two at a time, to volleyball practice. His classmates would twist in their chairs, whispering what did you get and I didn’t really study at all and let’s study together, a whirlwind of false platitudes and minute posturing. He thought Akaashi likely got good grades, sitting alone at his desk with his enviable scores. So Bokuto didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, the island of intelligence.

“If you were caught in the cold, you would feel indebted to anyone offering you warmth,” Akaashi said slowly, reasonably.

“I’m not cold!” 

“Perhaps you misattribute the adrenaline from the court to affection.” 

“But I like you!” 

“Are you sure—”

“I like you!” A stampede of a laughing team trundled behind him. Their footsteps squeaked over the tiled floor. Akaashi slowly, painfully, brought his hands together. The white tape wrapped around his fingers stood out starkly like a wound. 

“If we go out, you might not like me anymore,” Akaashi said. 

“If we go out, I’ll like you twice as much! Three times as much! Twenty times!” 

“You don’t know that,” Akaashi said, a new shallow bite to his tone. He spoke like a sleeping mist, silky and suffocating. Outside, on the unfamiliar yard, snow had begun to fall.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto said suddenly. “If you don’t like me, then don’t go out with me. That’s all.” He spoke with levity that he almost felt. 

His days, filled with mechanical pencils and quizzes and eyes fluttering shut when slumped over his desk. His nights, filled with sweat and sports drinks and the squeeze on his chest when he leapt for the perfect toss. Everything else, he would give to Akaashi. But he lacked the whorl of cosmic incandescence, replaced with simplicity. If Akaashi liked him, good. If Akaashi didn’t like him, then he would not give him grief. He waited.

“All right,” Akaashi finally said. “We can date.”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto tried to remember his breath. Something scalding hot welled up in his chest, wrapping around his pounding heart. 

“But if we go out to eat, please refrain from eating my portion as well,” Akaashi murmured. 

“Details, details!” Bokuto laughed. “Don’t sweat it, Akaashi.”

“When you say things like that, I’ll worry more.” Akaashi bent the tips of his fingers together into a steeple and studied him. “You look happy.”

“Because I am happy!” Bokuto grinned, wide enough for his cheeks to ache. “The second most handsome guy in the world said he’d date me! I’m happy, I’m happy.” 

“Oh.” Akaashi inhaled softly, mouth parting in surprise. He gazed at the flaps of his shoes, chewing his lips with a strange, glowing expression. When he bent his head, the distant light cast a halo on his hair.

\--

On the weekend, Bokuto arrived ten minutes late to their first date. His apologies floated over Akaashi’s shrugs, and they walked down a smaller street to the café. Akaashi wore a blue shirt with a scribbling design and his usual thick jacket. He ordered tea and a thin sandwich. He spoke in a low murmur, staring vacantly out the latticed window. The earlier snow left clumpy residues along the side of the road, where it huddled in packs underneath telephone poles.

“If others knew we were dating,” Akaashi said, “they’d worry.” 

Bokuto flipped his fork and his knife and his spoon, trying to find the proper order for a nice café. While his elbows were askew and his knees were brushing the bottom of the rectangular table, he felt undeniably pleased. The date atmosphere permeated through the aroma of espressos, the gleam of glazed bread through the polished display, the stenciled snowflakes on the wall. He was on a date—with Akaashi.

“That’s okay, Akaashi. I’ll show them all that I treat you good!” Bokuto beamed, but Akaashi frowned.

“They’d worry about you,” Akaashi said slowly. 

“Why?” Bokuto was brash and clumsy. He could see his friends grabbing his shoulders, telling him silly things like don’t bother the first years, don’t make them practice so late, don’t invent weird games. But Akaashi was reasonable. When he tore paper, he folded a line first. 

“Did you used to date a girl in your class?” Akaashi said, fiddling with a sugar packet between his fingers. 

“Huh?” Bokuto scrunched his nose in thought. “No. Huh? No.” 

“She walked with you to practice sometimes. Ponytail.” 

“Oh, her! Her, her, her. I remember! She just had tennis practice in the next court. You’d like her, she’s nice. She gave me candy once.” 

“Yes,” Akaashi said. “I remember.” Bokuto bit into Akaashi’s sandwich, a lilt of curiosity fluttering inside him. His friend had passed him the strawberry candy in front of the gym, but the act had been so subtle, like a flick of the wrist. Akaashi hadn’t been there, though there was a window on the side of the gym.

“I wouldn’t buy you candy,” Akaashi said. “If I already had a piece and didn’t want it, I’d give it to you. That’s why people will worry.” 

“Okay,” Bokuto said. “But we’re having coffee, not candy. Oh, do you want candy?”

“Did you like her?” Akaashi flipped the sugar packet back into the square holder. “The girl with the ponytail. She touched your hand, once.”

“She’s a good friend,” Bokuto said. “But I like you, Akaashi. I like you the most, out of everyone in this whole wide world. If I had to choose who I liked, a million gajillion times, I’d choose you every time. If I liked her, I would have told her. Because if you like someone, you should tell them.”

“It’s not that easy,” Akaashi mumbled. But he grew distracted by the sight of his empty plate and Bokuto laughed through the following glare, though he worried, a little bit, about the way Akaashi’s fingers clenched tight against his cup of steaming tea. His fingers had been curled against the handle, knuckles scraping against the porcelain, like he needed to feel any sort of warmth.

\--

Akaashi was right about the worry, inscrutably.

They built snowmen in the park. Bokuto’s hands reddened from the biting chill before Akaashi yanked gloves over his hands. Akaashi’s fingers left a cold touch where he grabbed Bokuto’s wrists. Bokuto’s snowman had a lumpy left side. He bent down to press frosted clumps into the uneven edge. Komi mechanically built two-tiered snowmen, an army of stone eyes and twig arms. Konoha worked on a snowman hat and asked, “Are you sure he even likes you, Bokuto?” 

“Eheh,” Bokuto said, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck with his snow-frosted glove. 

“Gross,” Komi said at the same time Saru said, “Gross.” They looked at each other with approval. 

“Honestly, I always thought he hated you. Just a little,” Konoha said optimistically, “and just a little more than the rest of us.” 

“That’s it! I’m gonna challenge you to a snowball fight!” 

“We said no!” Komi shook his head. “You can’t keep spiking snowballs at Washio. You know he tries to block them. That’s just not fair.” 

“That was an accident! Wait, Akaashi, where are you going?” Bokuto stood up. Akaashi had abandoned his small snowman, its pebbled mouth in a neutral line. He didn’t turn towards Bokuto. A stream of hot breath tumbled behind him like a smoking chimney trail. 

“I’ll get drinks,” Akaashi said. He walked through the field of snow. 

“Wait, wait! I’ll come with you! Akaashi, I said wait!” Bokuto jogged after him, waddled up in his winter coat and unfurling gray scarf. The park had a winding cobbled road to the vending machines, cutting the way through the blanket of downy snow. The trees, bark darkened in dampness, stood out against the gray sky with their labyrinth of thin branches, powdery snow touching along their boughs. People in dark coats ambled down distant walkways. The stiff smell of ice lingered in the air. 

In front of the humming vending machine, Akaashi bent down to stare at the glass. He curled his hand against his legs, back bowed like his stomach hurt. 

“I want a cold drink,” Bokuto said. 

“Your lips are almost blue.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said piously. “But only almost.” Akaashi chose hot coffee, collecting his rewards at the bottom. He passed the heated can to Bokuto, who shoved his gloves into his pocket. 

“I told you,” Akaashi said, so quietly that Bokuto leaned down to catch his words. “They’d worry.”

“Yeah, but just watch. They’re going to say, Bokuto—that’s me—they’d say, Bokuto, don’t bother Akaashi. Leave him alone, don’t break his pencils and put them in his locker. You know, stuff like that.” Bokuto shrugged, snapping the tab over his can.

“I always suspected that was you,” Akaashi said. 

“Hm?”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Akaashi asked. “Don’t you want to date someone who cares?” 

“But you’re the best.” 

“I have things I do well, and things I can improve. I cannot say unequivocally that—”

“Okay, yeah, but you’re the best.” 

Akaashi gazed out on the shallow fields of pristine snow, fenced off by low metal chains and melding into the gray pillowing clouds. The layers of snow gently sloped and cascaded, a fragile whisper. It was achingly untouched. 

“If someone else asks you out,” Akaashi said, “you should consider it.” 

“Not for a second,” Bokuto said, gulping down another douse of sweet coffee. 

“Still,” Akaashi said. “Consider it.”

\--

Bokuto spent most of his time at school, and he supposed Akaashi did, too. Akaashi had his own second-year friends, teachers, classmates. He sat in some unknown desk and jotted down unknown notes. But if he thought anybody insulted Akaashi, he would storm down the stairs and rip up the paper from the bulletin board, smashing chairs into windows, where the coursing wind would encase the wide-mouthed students into frigid ice.

But everybody liked Akaashi and paid him compliments. He introduced Akaashi as his boyfriend to his classmates, and they said oh yes, the polite volleyball player. Beside him, Akaashi would exhale softly, hands gripping into bony fists, like ‘polite’ was an insult. 

Bokuto supposed Akaashi was polite. When he spilled ice cream on Akaashi’s coat, Akaashi spoke with such civility to the shopkeeper that she brought her fingers to her cheeks in wonder. Now Akaashi had folded his damp coat over the chair, sitting beside the fireplace in his thinner shirt. 

“You’re nice to other people, huh?” Bokuto slumped over his chair. Akaashi paused from raising his cup to his mouth, eyebrows furrowed. Bokuto realized, belated, that they hadn’t been talking. Bokuto had only been thinking very loudly.

“I mean,” Bokuto said hastily, “Akaashi, people say you’re nice, right?” 

“Polite.” Akaashi sipped his drink. “That’s not the same as nice.” 

“Do you like it when people say you’re polite? I’ve never had anyone say that to me,” Bokuto added. “I wouldn’t know.” 

“It’s a good thing,” Akaashi said, after a long pause. “I wouldn’t want to be like you.”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto wrinkled his nose. He expected Akaashi to continue with his drink, blasé, but Akaashi also stared down at his slender mug, almost angry with his mouth twisted into a firm line.

“Well,” Akaashi finally said. “It’s the context. Sometimes people say what they don’t mean.” 

“Why would anyone do that? Wait, I got it.” Bokuto sat up, rocking his wooden wicker chair forward on its legs. “Like when you said you weren’t scared of the scary movie, but you were scared after all, right!”

“I wasn’t scared. You were the one screaming.” Akaashi settled his mug back onto the clean table with a soft clink. “I’m not talking about outright lies. If someone wanted to say someone else was cold, distant. Frigid. They might not say that outright. They’d phrase it in acceptable ways.” 

“How would they say it?” Bokuto leaned forward. Akaashi stared at him, and then returned his gaze into the crackling fire. The fireplace gave a warm amber glow to the false walnut tables and chairs, a golden glow to the flowers along the brick walls. The sconces were shaped like petals, fiery red glass uncurling towards the ceiling. By the bay windows, the snow had finally slowed from the earlier flurry. In the busy shopping street, the neon signs flickered weakly against the encroaching frost. The tall buildings with their smooth windows now mirrored the melting sky, snow piling atop the signs. 

“I don’t know,” Akaashi said. 

“Are you lying?” 

“Think for yourself.” 

“Akaashi,” Bokuto said glumly. “You’re always really impolite to me.” He knew Akaashi was impolite because Akaashi’s mouth twitched into an awkward smile, hidden quickly by his hand. What a guy. To him, Akaashi was the guy who would rather wear his setter dog shirt than anything Bokuto had to offer. 

From his seat, Bokuto could see down the street. Smiling faces appeared on pleasant pink posters, strong typography advertising for sales. Maybe the sports store had a sale. 

“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto said, “Let’s go shopping.” When he turned his attention back to the table, Akaashi yanked his hand back like it had been burned. He had been reaching for something, but Bokuto had nothing in his hands. Curiously, Bokuto offered his napkin. Akaashi held his hand in his lap and kept silent.

“Can we?” Bokuto finally prompted. 

“What?” Akaashi’s fingers twitched. “Oh. Shopping. If you’d like.” 

“You should be more enthusiastic about this, Akaashi. I’ll buy you a big jar of candy.” Bokuto straightened his back. “Wait, you’ll be cold! Take my jacket, I’m not cold.”

“I don’t want your jacket.” 

“Hm? What? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Bokuto pattered around the table, eagerly shoving his jacket around Akaashi’s shoulders. His jacket was slightly too big, the sleeves falling closer to Akaashi’s fingers when he finally, reluctantly, pulled on the jacket. But Akaashi must have been desperately cold. When they finally emerged onto the street, icy chill biting with slow persistence, Akaashi wrapped the jacket around himself and pressed his nose to the collar, eyes closing softly.

\--

There was an empty classroom that had a tricky lock. They met there after practice because it was easy, the same rectangular room with the same desks and the same windows. The snow blew heavy in the morning, halting the trains for some time. The low stone walls and branched tree in the courtyard had been coated in snow, which was still falling in quiet drifts from the sky.

Akaashi sat with his back to the wall, white curtains drifting on his shoulders. 

“I once read a study,” Akaashi said, “that said only one in a hundred marriages stemmed from first love.” 

“Did you want to get married?” Bokuto tossed his bag between the metal legs of a desk. “I went to a wedding once. My cousin’s wedding dress was really nice. It was white and fluffy like a sheep. Do you like that kind of thing?”

“I like it enough,” Akaashi said abstractly, “but I’m not talking about marriage. It’s about the long-term plans of our relationship.”

“Huh?” Bokuto sprawled on the floor. Akaashi stared over his shoulder. 

“We’re together now, but you must be partially motivated because I’m your setter. We’re high school students who share most of our time together. What happens if one of us stops playing volleyball? Or if you go to university, or go professional? What happens then?” Akaashi sounded slightly winded at the end of his spiel, like his breath had been squeezed from him. 

“Huh,” Bokuto said. 

“While you’re out there, perhaps you’ll meet someone nicer. I’m sure you don’t know this, but in my class, I have a bit of a reputation of being needlessly cruel at times. A good face with a bad mouth. That’s what I heard once.” Akaashi played with his fingers, resting his index fingers atop one another. “Even now, if you meet someone nicer, it would be better if you considered it. If only a little bit.” 

“Huh,” Bokuto said. 

“Well,” Akaashi said, “I was grateful you didn’t know. You don’t always think about these things. If you examined yourself, you might find your feelings are nothing but remnants of gratefulness for attention. But I would be remiss to keep you ignorant about the likelihood of our relationship lasting for more than a year, or even about your happiness during that year. I can’t take care of you.” 

“Huh,” Bokuto said.

Winter light was different from sunlight. Through the window, the light diffused over the lonely wooden chairs and solitary desks in a softer, muted glow. Even in the classroom, the light was a gentle fog, cloaking even Akaashi’s figure in a blissful radiance. Outside, the clean snow covered gentle gray shapes. 

“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto said. “Maybe we should break up.”

Akaashi was like a mountain, unmovable and solemn. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and wet his lips. His fingers had stilled, formed into a temple over his knees. His school jacket had still been buttoned tight across his stomach, an uncomfortable pinch across his chest, tie bunched at the knot. 

“So you realized,” Akaashi said softly. 

“Yeah,” Bokuto said. “I’m sorry it took so long, Akaashi. I didn’t know you were that unhappy to be dating me. This really sucks, though. Really, really sucks.” He would have to eat two gallons of ice cream, spoon digging into the damp cartons, to finally soothe the ache in his chest. He liked Akaashi. 

“I’m not unhappy,” Akaashi said sharply. “What I said—was for your sake.” 

“Akaashi, I don’t care about that stuff.” Bokuto shrugged, defeated. “But I’ve never seen you this sad because of me. It’ll be okay. Konoha’s only gonna laugh at me for a week.”

“But I’m not unhappy,” Akaashi said emptily. 

“If you want to break up, then we can break up. That’s all.” Bokuto kicked out his feet. “Hey, Akaashi. I was thinking. Maybe you just said you’d go out with me because I’m your captain, or maybe because you just like being friends with me, and you didn’t want to be not friends. But, hey, I’d still be your friend. I kinda remember—what you said, earlier, before, about the cold, and maybe you’re the one in the cold, and I’m just a guy who has a lot of hand warmers. Or something like that. What do you think?”

“It’s not like that,” Akaashi said. “Please don’t say it like that.” 

“Don’t worry, Akaashi. I won’t hate you.” He’d be sad, of course. He was already sad, an empty pit ripping into his stomach. It threatened to swallow him whole. But he liked Akaashi. This was something he would do for him, too, even if the feeling would destroy him.

“I like you,” Akaashi said. 

“I know.” 

“You know?” Akaashi’s gaze flickered to his face. “How?” 

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Bokuto furrowed his brow, confused about Akaashi’s confusion. He never doubted Akaashi’s feelings. It was the slight stare and sigh, a barely there movement, when Bokuto spilled ice cream over Akaashi’s jacket. Or the way Bokuto would sometimes have talked for hours, hands waving, and Akaashi would sit and listen and add in the soft hum of acknowledgment. Or when Bokuto suggested a great idea and Akaashi would say it was a bad idea, but still trail after him when Bokuto leapt out of the room. Or when Bokuto had finished a good strong spike, the way Akaashi smirked with his hand on his hip, and then looked at him, just looked at him, with eyes aglow with pride and affection, and that was when Bokuto realized he liked Akaashi, on that day and on that court, and why he had asked him out minutes later. 

Akaashi looked at him, swallowing slightly, like cold despair was in his mouth. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he finally whispered. 

“Really? Great!” Bokuto laughed with relief, flinging himself back against the desk. “I was kinda hoping you were lying when you kept saying we should break up.” 

“I wasn’t lying.” Akaashi opened his mouth, but Bokuto was already talking, staring out the window and flooded with giddy respite. 

“Well, I already knew you lied a lot,” he said, grinning. “You always say you’re not scared when you really are scared.” 

Akaashi stared at him. Bokuto hummed, tapping his fingers on his knees. Dating Akaashi really was the best. Akaashi was smart, and nice, and kind. Bokuto felt calm and pleased with all the gray light brimming on the empty classroom, bringing out the yielding hues. It was still cold, though. The winter uniform provided little insulation against the harsher cold, but Bokuto’s heart beat loud and hot in his chest. Akaashi must feel colder. Akaashi’s fingers were always cold, but he still gave up his gloves and scarf for Bokuto when they built snowmen. Akaashi was the best, after all. 

“What are you thinking about?” Akaashi murmured. “I can usually tell what you’re thinking, but when I can’t, I worry.” 

“You worry too much, Akaashi.” Bokuto frowned. “Uh, I forgot. I guess right now, I’m thinking about snow.” 

“Is it snowing?” Akaashi didn’t turn to peek out the window, watching him with a delicate expression.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s snowing a lot right now. I like the snow when it’s like this because it’s pretty and it’s fun. Oh, and if you build a snow fort and get inside, it keeps you all nice and warm. Isn’t that great?” 

“Yes,” Akaashi said faintly. 

“Well, I’m not thinking about that. Not really. I’m thinking the snow kinda looks like it’s falling on the curtain, and the curtain looks like it’s falling on you. Like snow. Like a wedding veil.”

For a second, Bokuto worried he said something wrong. He was brash, after all, and clumsy. Akaashi stared at him, distant and inert. Gradually, he lowered his gaze to his knees and his fingers scrunched together, like he was crumbling, melting, bit by bit. He trembled once. 

Before Bokuto could apologize, Akaashi had lifted the curtains from his head and glanced at him, a quiet invitation. 

Bokuto crawled under the curtain. Akaashi let it fall over him, hiding both of them in the corner of the classroom. With patience, Akaashi slowly wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s shoulders, clenching tight. Bokuto didn’t understand, but hurriedly, he pulled Akaashi into a warm and big hug. 

Slowly, softly, Akaashi bent his head against Bokuto’s shoulder, and rested there.


End file.
